One of a Kind
by Anath de Malfoy
Summary: Remus Lupin has finally found the woman who can tame him - a whole LOT of woman! Alternate universe.


Title: One Of A Kind  
  
Author: Anath de Malfoy  
  
Pairing: Fridwulfa the Giantess/Remus Lupin  
  
Summary: Domestic "bliss" in the Forbidden Forest... our favourite werewolf has at long last found a woman who can tame him - a whole LOT of woman!  
  
Rating: R  
  
Warnings: Het (mostly femdom), some bestiality, AU, OC  
  
Possible Spoilers: Books 1-5  
  
Disclaimer: These characters and the associated profits belong to J.K. Rowling. They, however, have their own minds when it comes to romantic matters.  
  
A/N: Although I'm not a big het fan usually, I felt I just had to write this pair... it was The Lady Feylene's influence this time... *gigglesnerks*... this fic is set in an alternate universe, meaning that Fridwulfa is alive and so are Harry Potter's parents, Voldemort is dead, and there is no Wolfsbane Potion - you get the idea.  
  
- Remus' POV -  
  
Seeming tall and regal as the mountain peaks, her wild hair falling black and stormy as a thundercloud down past her waist, she is sheer magnificence. Her shoulders broad and biceps solid, her milk-filled breasts two sensual mounds. Her thighs so muscular and sturdy when I climb into her lap for one of our infrequent but exquisite, treasured kisses or those moments of unspeakably delicious torment when she slides a dampened fingertip inside me, stretching me so wide I sob in agony but sending bolts of fiery pleasure through my quivering flesh. No soft, fragile femininity about this arcane beauty; her skin is weathered and toughened by the elements, her scent the savage essence of the wilderness, of earth and snow and rain. Free of affectation, clad in her makeshift robes of Graphorn hide and deerskin, barefoot and unadorned save for some kind of ivory tusk on a leather thong around her neck that doubles as a weapon, there is no woman more glorious to my world-weary eyes than she.  
  
Never will she tell me her true age; when I am so presumptuous as to ask, she gives me that strange, darkly foreboding smile of hers and tells me to stop being such a daft little wolf. From some of the things she has mentioned in the past, I guess she must be at least three hundred, despite having not a thread of grey in her abundant tresses - her kind are capable of living for centuries, if they can survive each other's frequent fits of rage...  
  
From the very first I was entranced by Fridwulfa; seeing her lead the group of giants who had turned against Voldemort into battle was fearsome yet breathtaking. Sending those of her people who remained loyal to the evil one fleeing to faraway mountain ranges, scattering and crushing Death Eaters in her wake... it was her ferocity and courage that were instrumental in the triumph of the light, and which made me love her beyond all reason, a besotted slave trembling and insignificant at her feet.  
  
She, however, was wary of my advances at the beginning; her unhappy experiences with the wizarding world in the past, the prejudice and isolation she had endured that led her to reluctantly abandon her first husband and her eldest son, Rubeus Hagrid (she had feared that her people would react with violence to a child they would deem pitifully small) prevented her from warming to me. But my persistence and tender worship finally won her trust, then her affection; the sanctuary promised to her and her followers by Albus Dumbledore and my status as a fellow outcast in the magical realm led her to care for me at long last, and made me the happiest and most fortunate man to ever draw breath. Returning to her embrace after my day of teaching Defence Against The Dark Arts over at Hogwarts Castle is the sweetest feeling any married man could know, though I often remain at the school for meals - I have yet to become accustomed to giant cuisine. Meat eaten raw or cooked so black over a fire it's almost charcoal, and of course the infamous bone-meal bread...  
  
In the safety of the Forbidden Forest we have made our home, our haven; it is a place where she and her clan can live and thrive in comfort. The other denizens of these woods mostly choose to keep their distance, in grudging tolerance or simple apprehension; food is abundant, and there is enough space to roam and avoid the murderous conflicts to which her kind are occasionally prone. The giants here look to Fridwulfa as a leader, yet she refuses to claim the title of Gurg. The bad old days of submission to an overlord of any kind are over, she believes - it is time for these once dark beings to forge for themselves a new existence.  
  
The wolf in me accepts these gargantuan creatures as my pack now; at full moon they are both safe from my predations and able to shield me from danger. Fridwulfa has never been disturbed or repulsed by my transformations - what harm could a mere werewolf inflict upon a mighty giantess? It would only take a light sweep of her arm to fling me halfway across the forest, and she has taken to dangling me upside down when I annoy her - yes, even the fiercest werewolves can turn submissive in the face of the awesome force these giants possess...  
  
Hagrid was shocked at first when he found out about us, but he has come to accept our love with his usual open-heartedness (although it took him longer to understand the reasons for his mother's return, and he still holds much pain within him at her abandoning him when he was a child). "As long as yeh don' expect me ter call yeh Dad, it's fine wi' me," he told me gruffly, with his dark eyes twinkling merrily all the same. I have grown even closer to Fridwulfa's other son Grawp, conceived with her long-dead second husband, another giant. He has been an invaluable source of help to his mother and me ever since our daughter Freya was born.   
  
Almost four now, my baby girl towers over me already; she is a constant source of pride to her mother, who is rapt at having a "good big kid" at last. Fridwulfa had long ago reluctantly resigned herself to producing offspring smaller than her kind approve of, since I myself am no giant and her sons are both painfully undersized in her view. I have no idea if the werewolf blood in Freya's veins has had any effect on her growth, but she will reach her mother's twenty feet and maybe more when she is adult, it seems; thankfully she has shown no signs of lycanthropy, although she has developed the habit of howling at the moon. Freya is also displaying magical abilities, and Dumbledore has assured me that when she is eleven, Miss Freya Lupin will receive her Hogwarts letter of admission along with all the other first-years.  
  
"I've handled students with special needs before, as you are quite aware, Remus," the wise old man assured me with a small smile when I raised my concerns about accommodating the first ever full-sized giantess to attend Hogwarts. "And the parents of the other students will just have to... adjust. I would never dream of turning away a young witch with such potential, and that is my last word on the subject."  
  
Much as I adore my daughter, it will be a relief when she finally goes off to school, as she needs more structure and discipline than her parents alone can provide. She mostly has a pleasant, amenable nature, spending many carefree days in play with other young giants and discreetly backing off when violent squabbles break out amongst them; Freya also loves to help her brother Grawp with his English, and explore for caves full of gleaming crystals and unusual animals in the deeper regions of the forest. But she has become quite a wild young thing; just yesterday, she lifted me up and seated me in the branches of the highest tree she could find when I scolded her for chasing unicorns. Standing there giggling her head off while I yelled at her to get me down, it being far too high and precarious for me to climb down safely - luckily Grawp was within earshot and scooped me back onto solid ground. For some reason, Hagrid found the story amusing when he heard about it, but needless to say, my beloved wife did not. Freya got a massive clout from her mother for that little episode.   
  
Strangely, it was me Fridwulfa ended up comforting after our daughter's punishment; although Freya took the slap in her stride and was happily off to play again moments later, I sat and brooded for a while. Fridwulfa does as she sees fit of course, but she knows I do not like to see her strike our child. Suffice it to say we soon made it up very tenderly, she lifting me onto her lap and pulling aside the matted fur of her bodice for my parched lips to seek the soft nubs of her nipples, letting me suck the sweet warm frothing milk into my eager mouth. Doing this both soothes me and relieves Fridwulfa - she is trying to wean our daughter, but her breasts will be burdened with fullness and soreness for quite some time, for a far longer period than any human woman must endure. I often think that this may be a reason why giantesses are not overly maternal... and why my wife has decided that Freya will be our only child. Just as well, perhaps - Fridwulfa is probably nearing the end of her childbearing years anyway, and much as I love our baby, having one of her around is indeed enough. Merlin only knows what it will be like when our not-so-little darling starts learning to use magic for mischief!   
  
Fortunately, Freya will have plenty of companionship as she grows up. Besides her family and the other giants, she already has plenty of young friends in the wizarding world, thanks to frequent visits from James and Lily Potter and their little son Harry, and my other old friends Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, who found love and happiness with each other and adopted what seems like a tribe of war-orphaned children! My friends and their offspring have grown to respect the giants of the Forbidden Forest, yet understandably remain very cautious around them. Fridwulfa assures me that no human who is a friend of mine will ever be hurt, but some of the giants, the young ones especially, do not fully know the extent of their own strength, and I remain ever vigilant over the children flitting in and out between the trees, giggling as Freya mock-roars and strides after them, bending aside thick branches that obscure them from her sight.  
  
"Be puppy, Daddy," young Freya often begs me when she senses the full moon near; since I cannot harm her in my lupine state, she enjoys having a wolf companion to roam the woodland at her side. But it is Fridwulfa who most often craves the rising of the round moon; those nights when the beast I have become is consumed by the lust to mate...   
  
Naked in the moonlight, her garments strewn beneath her as a blanket on the forest fur, she makes low rumbling moans and throaty purrs as my tongue seeks the salt and coral of her dewy folds, licking and rasping at her tender sex or straying to the sensitive clenched pucker of her smaller, tighter hole. I thrust into whichever opening my desire pushes me towards as I mount her, snarling and slavering and panting as she grips my fur in her thick, hard-muscled fingers, sometimes winding a hand clamped light but warning around my throat, to remind me who truly has the power here...  
  
There is no other woman like my Fridwulfa in this entire world - not even other giantesses can match her. Tempestuous and violent, prone to sudden dark moods, proud and aloof, yet with a passionate heart that draws me to her like a light deep in the forest's hidden core; this is why I love her more than life itself. She is one of a kind, and every day I thank whatever gods may exist that she is my wife.  
  
~ Fin. 


End file.
